Remembrance. An Extra Tooth
In austral winter of 2008, I was renting a room for a few months in the Highgate Hill section of Brisbane. The house was an old Queenslander, not far from the river and was less than fifty years younger than the city itself.
One evening, I returned from a work assignment and prepared a one pot meal composed of diced chicken, a half can of chickpeas, onion, celery, tomato sauce and spices–cooked at high heat, served in large soup bowl. a delivered to the mouth with a large spoon.
While spooning away, I encountered that dreadful thud when one meets the resistance of a stone that found its way into one’s granola. I spat a molar into my hand and awaited an onslaught of pain and blood that was sure to follow.
No pain. No blood. I ran a fingertip along my teeth. All present and accounted for. It was only at that moment that I looked at the tooth once more. It wasn’t my tooth. It was significantly decayed, had almost no root and a cheap metal crown that was unlikely available anywhere but a third world country.
My housemates encouraged me to sue the cannery. But, I was simply pleased to be spared the expense and discomfort of a replacement tooth.
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Michael T George
2 February 2021
